only human
by glitterypony
Summary: In which Mikan reaches her breaking point and decides to leave Natsume. "I'm only human! I'm greedy and selfish, and—and there's only so much I can take. I need love! I need your love. I want you to love me!" AU-ish. Oneshot.


**disclaimer: **hi, my name is christina, and i can't even draw a straight line with a ruler.

**betas: **thanks to _Sakura Keiko _and _Rip Apart My Dreams _for beta-ing this for me! _Sakura Keiko _was a total sweetheart and was super patient while i was finishing this up for her to edit, and _Rip Apart My Dreams _is amazing for being able to beta in such short notice and short time. (:

**dedication/inspiration: **to _years _and _years _of waiting for just that _one _guy, but never getting anything from them. inspired by my friend's, "look. at me, &**we'll** hold _hands_ and get lost in this little _wonder_ they call **_love_**."

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—

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**only human**

"_Sometimes, I need the comfort of knowing  
>That you will always be there.<br>So, when I go out on a limb to fight the world,  
>It will be a little easier to bear."<em>

—

—

—

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she whispered in a quivering voice much unlike her usual confident, cheery one. She gazed at him with solemn glassy eyes, tears threatening to break free from their barrier. Her straight, white teeth gnashed against her bottom lip, a sign that she was striving to keep herself composed and sane, which she most definitely was not.

She was anything but composed and sane.

She stood in the midst of the—_cold, still, always too big and empty—_plainly furnished and decorated living room, back straight, shoulders squared and her chin slightly dipped down from the mixture of emotions running through her mind right now. A platinum pink trolley suitcase sat beside her with all of her belongings inside, ready to be rolled out of and away from this damned place. This—this—this _prison;_ empty and cold and holding only the sound of her dull heartbeat within its confined walls.

She felt—no, _was—_impossibly weak, exhausted. The heavy burden upon her shoulders was excruciatingly painful; the package of _hurt _he placed upon her delicate, fragile shoulders was nearly too much to bear. She was _breaking_, on the verge of just collapsing and crumbling apart right there in front of him—

—and he?

He was standing some ten feet in front of her by the sofa, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, seemingly calm and unfazed by her question. From what she could see, his face was entirely blank—cool and devoid of any trace of emotion, much to her chagrin. What made her even angrier was that his eyes were not even on her—they were fixed somewhere _behind _her.

Before she knew it, her body had already shifted forward, her bare feet shuffling quietly on the cold wooden floor. After nine or so agonizing long steps, she found herself standing in front of him, a great amount of height difference between them. She was not short for an average woman, but at a young twenty-three years, he was extraordinarily tall for a man of his age, standing at a full six feet and three inches. Even standing straight, her five foot six frame seemed tiny in comparison to his; the top of her head just barely managed to graze his smooth chin—much to her dismay, she grudgingly admitted in the back of her mind.

Still, that did little to prevent her from speaking to him fearlessly and looking straight at his _(averted) _smoldering eyes.

"Look at me," she breathed in blatant exasperation, clenching her fists tightly at her sides. "_Look at me!"_

And he silently complied, doing as she commanded. His previously dipped head lifted the slightest bit so that he could face her; see her desperate straight face—which was not about to last long—through the bright, white lighting of his living room. Slightly hazy ruby orbs focused onto her pain-stricken face, staring at her small button nose first, then moving to her imperceptibly parted lips.

Seeing this, she drew in a sharp breath and released it in the form of a sigh, her eyelids fluttering for a fleeting moment before she ceased all activity and simply gazed at him in an inquiring manner.

She licked her lips before calling, "Natsume."

He fractionally inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Will you say something?" she inquired—_pleaded—_in a nearly-soundless whisper, feeling her heart rate escalate tenfold as she waited impatiently for his reaction. At her sides, her fingers trembled with increasing anxiety. "…_please." _She let herself succumb to begging.

He didn't respond, didn't even show any indication that he'd heard her at all.

She laughed mirthlessly.

Of course.

What was she expecting? For him to scream at her not to go? For him to realize his mistake, fall to his knees and grab her legs, begging her to stay? For him to burst into tears and apologize to her?

For him to profess his love—_was it even love?—_for her?

No, of course not.

Of course he wouldn't do such a silly thing.

Natsume was Natsume, after all, and Natsume never did anything of that sort, no matter the circumstances. Hell, she wouldn't expect him to react even if the world were to end right here and right now.

The revelation caused something to snap in her; a new anger sparked with her chest at the thought, and she mustered up newfound bravery to speak her next words.

"Of course not," she scoffed, feeling her stomach twist into itself, "Who am I to you, for you to waste your breath on me?" She chanced him a _(nearly-hopeful) _glance, but felt nothing but disappointment as she found his face still in its original state of indifference. "I probably don't mean anything to you. You don't even—"

This was when he spoke.

"What do you want me to say, Mikan?" His voice was velvety and soft, and did not fail to make her knees turn to jello. "Hm?" It could've been her imagination, but the tone of his voice rose up a notch and _nearly—not quite, definitely not—_cracked.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"I—"

She forced it out—she _had _to get it off her chest.

"I—I want to you tell me you _love _me!" she all but shrieked, while the barrier she'd built over her eyes broke. The tears came, streaming down her neatly made-up face, mixing with her mascara and smudging her eyeliner. She sniffled before continuing, calmer, "What do I mean to you, Natsume?"

Natsume did not answer, remaining calm and still as a statue, which fueled her rage further.

"Am I your girlfriend? Your partner? Your lover? In fact—am I even your friend?" she demanded. "I don't know. It's just that—I—I can't _stand _the way you don't show any emotion at all! Natsume, you shut yourself away from the people around you, and you show no indication of what I mean to you. Sure, we've been living together for a few months now, but _I don't even know why!_ All you do is ignore me most of the time, and live your life in solitude, even with me in the same house. I don't even know why I'd agreed to move in with you after Alice Academy closed down—yes, oji-chan had passed away and nobody could take me in, but—

What _am _I to you? I think I _know _that we have feelings for each other—hell, we've even had sex _(not made love, because again, did he even love her?)_ before, even if it was just a…a one-time thing!" And perhaps it had been a _whim _on his part, too.

At this, he shifted uncomfortably, and she took pride in eliciting even that barest trace of reaction from the stoic man before her. She continued, however, because she was on a roll—she was not about to cease her tirade just yet.

"…but I don't know if that was a mistake or not," she admitted faintly, casting her eyes downward to fix on the elegant design of her pedicure peeking out from her peep toe flats. "Because I want to mean something to you, Natsume… I want to _be. _I know I might seem like a—a _bitch_ right now, acting like a paranoid, insolent little kid, but…" She took a deep breath.

"I'm only _human! _I'm greedy and selfish, and—and there's only so much I can take. I need love! I need _your _love. I want you to love me! I want you to need me! I want to mean something, just give me something…_anything._" Her eyes clamped shut, oblivious to him and everything surrounding them, and she pressed her fists against her temples to sooth the dull ache manifesting.

"…"

She sighed and chuckled; a weak, pained release of air without humor.

This was it.

She sniffled, dragging the back of her hand across her drenched eyes, and breathed deeply again.

"Goodbye, Natsume."

She limped across the floor of the living room and grabbed hold of her suitcase. She pulled open the front door, allowing a chilling gust of wind in.

Without sparing another glance behind her, she tightened her pea coat around her, and stepped out, leaving the door depressingly ajar in the wake of her departure.

—

—

"Are you stupid, Natsume?"

Said man, currently lounged on the sofa, a bottle of beer in his hand and TV remote in the other, slanted his gaze over to his best friend when he addressed him. He took a large swig of his Heineken, swallowed audibly, and replied, "Tch, no. Why?"

Ruka gave a disconsolate shake of his head, blond bangs swishing back and forth across his eyes, and sighed. "Why did you do that?"

"What?"

"Mikan." Natsume paused mid-drink, the opening of the sea-green bottle just mere inches from touching his lips. He grimaced. Inside, Ruka rejoiced a little, knowing that even only the name of the brunette could affect the raven-haired lad in front of him. "Mikan," he pressed again.

"What about her?" Natsume's tone was flat, devoid of emotion, revealing nothing about what he was currently feeling inside, even though it was a blurring turmoil of confusion and mind-breaking questions. Inside, it was a whirlpool of unfathomable disappointment and anger and _it made his head ache—_

"I can't believe you let her go."

"…she wanted to leave," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

"So?"

"I let her do as she wished."

Another sigh.

"Natsume." _His _voice, unlike Natsume's, was full of sympathy and _pity; _and despite being soft, it reached his ears clearly and easily with a melodic ring.

"What?" His throat suddenly felt dry, and he took another sobering gulp of the beer in his hands to quench the thirst. After he swallowed, he dragged the back of his hand across his lips to wipe away the remnants of the beer, furrowing his eyebrows minutely at the scratching feeling of stubble pricking at his skin.

He had forgotten to shave. Idly, he remembered that the last time he'd shaved was when _she'd _done it for him, on a warm autumn day when they were free of work and were content with just each other's company. She had positioned herself on the edge of the bathroom sink; since she had obscured his vision of the mirror, she took on the duty of helping him clear his chin and upper lip of the prickly little hairs.

The memory of Mikan helping him shave led his mind to reminisce about other things as well. An image of his dresser crossed his mind—a short few weeks ago, it had been decorated with pink, white, blue, and lavender ornaments and picture frames; now there was nothing left but an empty, white space where the little accessories had been. Then, his mind replayed a scene when he had come home to find Mikan scurrying about the house, flowers and vases in her hands. When he questioned her actions, she replied, _Your house needs a little bit of love and life, Natsume! _The numerous flower vases in the house now were pathetic: fragile, weak, and constantly in need of care and watering. Without Mikan's nursing they had wilted and died shortly after her departure.

Next, he remembered the nights when she'd still lived with him. Every night, when his nightmares haunted him to the point where he couldn't even fall back into sleep, she would somehow sense his troubles and appear at the door to his room, wide-eyed and vulnerable-looking. They would not speak to each other; rather, they'd share unspoken words, and stare at each other until eventually, she would lead him back in bed, where they'd fall into deep, undisturbed sleep in the safe comfort of each other's arms.

He had relished the feeling of her slim arms around his torso; warm, secure, and trusting.

Now his bed was chilling, stiff, and felt two sizes too big for himself.

His fist clenched around the sea-green bottle in his hand. He harbored strong feelings for her—why couldn't she see?

Natsume grunted inwardly and sipped more of his beer, hating the lump that was forming in his throat. A dull ache had manifested in his chest. How irritating. She had been gone for nearly two weeks now; why were they discussing her now?

Ruka pocketed his hands within his jacket and leaned back on his chair, his nimble fingers absently toying with his ring of keys, the clinking and chiming of the sleek silver keys and key chains (that he was forced to keep) creating a solemn and earnest atmosphere about the two friends. He blinked; once, twice, then shook his head and focused his azure-gaze on his best friend.

"You shouldn't have let her go," he reprimanded quietly, an unfortunate smile hanging upon his lips. "Honestly, that was very stupid of you, Natsume. I would have expected a better decision from you."

"Why do you care, Ruka?" Natsume snapped angrily, irritated that _their _relationship problems would concern him so much. He was already feeling slightly numb and irked by Mikan's departure; Ruka needn't add salt to his wound by rubbing the fact in his face. "Who is she to you?"

"She is my _friend, _Natsume, and more than that to you—I know," Ruka retorted, "You _love_ her."

Natsume's body stilled, his crimson eyes wide with astonishment. How did he know?

"Yes," he bit out rather harshly, "I love her. I _love _her." He threw a heated glare at Ruka. "Why?" he demanded. "Why did she leave?" More specifically, _why did she leave _me_?_

Ruka looked pityingly at his best friend, feeling disappointed that Natsume could not have admitted this to the brunette before she left.

The admission seemed to have taken the breath away from Natsume, for he slumped further into the couch, his body sinking in deeper by the second.

"You love her," he repeated, "then why didn't you tell her?"

The man on the couch buried his face into his hands, the appendages obstructing Ruka's view of the expression on his face. Despite this, however, he could assume that it was an expression of regret and longing.

"I don't know," Natsume eventually mumbled wearily from behind his palms, his voice slurred and slightly higher due to the effects of the alcohol. "I don't know. But I miss her."

Ruka smiled.

"Then go get her back," he proposed softly.

—

—

Mikan had always prided herself in always being strong—or at least _looking _strong—no matter the circumstances. She had always appeared unaffected by troubles and happy to those around her in order to not let them worry about her, and most of the time she was able to pull off a mask of nonchalance with no problem at all.

This time, however, no matter how many times she tried to look okay, she failed miserably.

Currently, she was situated on a too-hard wooden chair at a table in a coffee shop, Hotaru across from her.

"Hotaru," she sighed into her white chocolate mocha, "why are you looking at me like that?"

The violet-eyed female had her elbows propped up on the table, the palms of her hands providing support for her chin to rest upon in the air. Her usual indifferent, lazy orbs were fixed on the face of her best friend (she would never call Mikan this out loud, but still), scrutinizing, searching.

"Mikan," she intoned steadily.

"Hm?"

"Stop."

Mikan's eyes flitted up to Hotaru's blank face, wondering and not understanding. Confused, she asked, "Stop what, Hotaru?"

Hotaru blinked slowly, and then clasped her pale slender hands together, using her right index finger to finger the silver wedding band on her left ring finger. She continued blinking at Mikan before sighing and staring at her.

"Stop pretending that you're okay," she demanded, lithely untangling her fingers and bringing her cup of tea to her lips. She took a small sip and placed it back onto the saucer where it belonged. "It's not like you."

"Huh?" Mikan questioned, her chocolate orbs wide with curiosity. She couldn't understand what Hotaru was trying to say—not like _what? _"I don't get you, Hotaru."

"You want to go back to him."

Mikan blanched at her friend, mouth agape, a mouthful of mocha nearly dripping out before she quickly shut her mouth and swallowed it. Wiping her mouth, she murmured, "Why do you think so?"

"I know you better than other people, Mikan; I'm not stupid," Hotaru replied indifferently.

A long sigh emanated from Mikan's lips, and she set her coffee down carefully, leaning back into her wooden chair. "Yeah."

"…he doesn't deserve you," Hotaru stated simply, unabashed by the words that had just escaped her mouth. It was the truth, and Mikan knew it, too—Natsume was a jerk who did not appreciate nor show love for those around him, and now he was suffering the consequences of his actions. Mikan deserved someone better than him.

"I know, but still…I really miss him, still. I want to see him again, so much—so much that it hurts," Mikan admitted hesitantly, burying her blushing face into the palm of her hand. It was strange how even being somewhere else, he could elicit such a reaction from her. "But I can't," she hurriedly plunged onward like a river rushing toward a waterfall. "Not after the way he's treated me."

"…I know." Hotaru's lips turned up into a smile, albeit reluctantly. But this was her best friend, and she wanted what she wanted, so she would go along with it. "I know, Mikan."

Mikan smiled her signature smile—an almost-genuine one this time. "Yes, Hotaru. But I can't keep moping around like this every day, ne?"

She laughed and lifted her head up.

"It's no use crying over spilled milk; it's about time I stopped sulking."

—

—

"Is that all you want today, sir?" the flower-girl asked sweetly from behind the counter. _Too _sweetly, Natsume complained in his mind, but said nothing because he had to do this. "Just the stargazer lily bouquet?"

He nodded a yes, and shuffled uneasily on his feet.

"Alright, sir. Would you like to put a card in the bouquet?"

"No," he croaked; his throat felt tight and dry for some reason. "It's fine, just the bouquet."

"Very well," the girl said, quickly scurrying away to pick out the needed flowers and arrange them into the ordered bouquet.

Natsume was left leaning over the countertop, a smiling Ruka and a stoic Hotaru next to him. The latter had a suspiciously large BakaCannon in her right hand, a malicious grin twisting her lips. Natsume swallowed.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" he mumbled.

"What? The bouquet?" Ruka asked.

"Yeah."

"I don't know, Natsume," Ruka admitted, sliding his hands in his pockets. "The flowers are just a complement. What really matters is _you._"

"…how?" Natsume asked reluctantly; he was still not used to the idea of requiring other people's help. It made him feel weak and needy, which he disliked a great deal.

But he was doing this for _her, _and…that was all that mattered. It was worth it.

_She was worth it._

"_You're _the one she wants, not the flowers. She loves you, and you love her—you need to show her that."

Natsume leaned further against the cool counter top and breathed deeply; a futile attempt to sooth the stinging pain in his chest.

He wouldn't admit this, but inside, he berated himself for chasing her away with his idiotic antics.

Deep inside, he prayed that this time, he would not screw things up again.

—

—

_(wonk!)_

"Ow! Hotaru, what was that for?" Ruka protested in pain after Hotaru's famous horse-shoe glove hit the side of his head. His hand vigorously rubbed the sore bump that had formed on his head.

"Are you sure this'll work?" his wife answered with a question, making him stop whining. Ruka settled down, ceasing the motions of his hand and resting it against her ungloved hand. A confident and wise smile adorned his gentle features.

"Yes. I have faith in Natsume."

"Are you sure?" Hotaru asked. For once in her life, she was uncertain as to whether her decision was right or not; this was Mikan's chance at a happy ending, but she was doubtful. What if Hyuuga hurt her again? What if he could not change his bastardly ways? What if he was _not _the one for her?

She would blame herself for years to come if that were to be the case.

"Yes, Hotaru," Ruka assured her, breaking her from her trance. His long, graceful fingers found her work-toughened ones, stroking the semi-soft skin with relaxing gentleness. His thin lips tilted upward to form a loving smile as he gazed at her, unmistakable affection glinting in clear blue irises. "I'm sure," he chuckled lowly while dipping his head to brush his lips across her parted ones swiftly.

_(wonk!)_

"Ow! Hotaru! What was that for?"

"For surprising me."

Ruka feigned hurt and pouted his lips, turning his head away. A tiny smile graced Hotaru's lips as she latched onto her husband's warm arm, staring into the distance at the raven-haired man trudging through the lonely streets.

"Oh," she sounded, "it's raining." Her head tilted to the side as she suggested to Ruka, "Let's go home and wait for their news."

With a twisted amusement, she wondered how Natsume would make everything alright.

—

—

Mikan shivered vehemently as she trudged upon the damp sidewalks, her arms coiled tightly around her body to create a little warmth against the frigid, unrelenting winds. It was _only the start of fall, _she thought with fervid vexation as her entire frame trembled intensely, so why was it_so freaking cold?_

She attempted to cease the incessant chattering of her teeth, but to no avail. The cold was piercing and all she wanted was to snuggle up in her warm, soft blanket and drink hot chocolate, but _no—_Hotaru just _had _to tell her to run that errand to the post office by foot. (Why, she did not know, but she had complied to avoid having to face the wrath of Hotaru's infamous BakaCannon—new and improved! Oh, no.)

Sighing, she continued her desolate, miserable trek towards her new condo. She was literally merely fifty steps away from the building's doorway when her eyes caught sight of a dark figure in the distance.

Her movements stilled.

—

—

_Fuck, _Natsume cursed in his mind as he sprinted toward the address Ruka and Hotaru had given him.

Despite himself, he was beginning to panic. Shit, if he'd known it would rain, then he wouldn't have forgotten to bring an umbrella, and oh no—the flowers—_the flowerstheflowerstheflowers! _They were all wet and rain-covered now. If only he'd brought an umbrella, or ran faster before the rain fell, then _maybe the flowers would still be okay._

His eyes grew wider as he ran, still clutching the bunch of pink-and-lavender wrapped bouquet tightly in his right hand. His insides squirmed with anxiety and anticipation as his mind overflowed with questions.

Would she be happy to see him?

Would she even _want _to see him, after how he'd treated her?

Was she happy? Without him?—His stomach seemed to withdraw into itself at this the possibility of this occurring, and he quickly gasped for air to quell the pain.

What if she had moved on?

He shook his head and continued moving in long strides.

Almost there.

About a hundred more steps until he reached her condo.

Eighty.

Seventy.

Sixty.

Fifty…and then he slowed to a walk.

He saw her.

—

—

_Could it be him? _was the only coherent thought Mikan could pick out from her jumbled mass of a mind. There were so many things going on in her brain right now, and it was making her feel slightly light-headed.

She pressed her palm to her lips and focused her wide-eyed gaze on the figure slowly walking towards her. It was nearing her now; the distance that spanned between them was shrinking by the second.

Should she run or stay?

She opted to stay. (Because she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet; not before she heard his voice again.)

It seemed like an eternity had passed before he finally came to stop before her, only about five feet separating their two bodies. Mikan looked at him through wet lashes, studying his every detail.

He had lost weight, her eyes perceived, and a frown marred her small lips. His cheekbones protruded more definitely from his skin, and the black button-up he was wearing seemed a size too large for his build. Other than that, though, the rest of him seemed unchanged—his misshapen (but still oh-so-attractive) hair, his aristocratic and high nose, his mouth, his flawless skin, and _oh, _his _eyes. _His smoldering, glowing eyes.

He was also drenched to the core, she noticed, inwardly commanding herself to not rush up and see if he was okay.

Finally, she realized she was staring—maybe gawking a little—and straightened up, piecing back together her slipped composure.

Did she have the right to look, now that she had moved out?

She couldn't know, actually. Right now, she was more confused than ever, especially when _Natsume _was standing right before her. Right here. Right now. _In front of her._

_Relax, Mikan. _She calmed herself and breathed steadily before speaking, "Natsume." She dared not look at his eyes. What if she got so lost in them she did something stupid? No, no, she couldn't let that happen, so she chose to look at anything but his eyes the entire time.

He tilted his head, eliciting a small, unladylike snort from her. Still the same—reluctant to verbally respond to others. Her attention shifted to the empty streets around them. Anything to take her mind off of this man.

Natsume's mind, on the other hand, was seemingly _attracted _and _drawn _to the brunette currently standing before him. She hadn't changed since he last saw her—still the same petite brunette, with her wavy long auburn locks and sun-kissed skin; she still had the small button nose, thin pink lips, and the largest, most innocent eyes he had ever seen. She was…pretty.

He was seriously panicking. His mind was swirling with countless questions that made him feel queasy.

_Why isn't she looking at me? Why is she so calm? Why isn't she saying anything?_

His gut twisted even more when he imagined her being happy with another man right now. He imagined her curled up against the chest of an unknown man, that ever-present smile adorning her features, an endearing sigh escaping her luscious pink lips. He imagined her moving her dainty hands along the naked skin of a man that was not him—feeling, caressing lovingly. He imagined her sparkly eyes, glittering with adoration as they focused on her new lover. He imagined her kissing him passionately, lost and mesmerized by his love toward her.

A jab of pain in his chest made him flinch, and for a quick fleeting moment, he struggled to breathe.

"Mikan," he rasped, feeling his nervousness dry up and shrink his throat. She slowly turned her head around. "Say something," he breathed. He wanted to hear her voice again—that voice that had constantly filled his life, but was chased away by his foolish behavior.

Mikan blinked at him; once, twice.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, just loud enough for him to hear. Her voice was strained, as if simply speaking to him required great effort.

Natsume walked the final few steps to stand in front of her. The hand that held the now drenched, imperfect bouquet darted out, presenting the gift to Mikan.

"For you," he croaked, unable to bring himself to say anything more lest she decide to reject him tonight, which he desperately wished she wouldn't do.

Mikan slanted her gaze toward his outstretched hand, staring unblinkingly at the object in it.

A stargazer lily bouquet.

"Why?" she asked while holding the bouquet in her own two hands.

"…" He struggled to find the words to say to her. "I…I—" What could he say?

"Yes?" Mikan pressed impatiently.

"You told me…that you didn't know what my feelings were for you. Well…here they are." His voice wavered.

Mikan inhaled the luscious, sweet scent that emanated from the bouquet. Uncertain, she surveyed the bunch of worn-out flowers before her—stargazer lilies, carnation, alstroemeria, lilies, roses, and larkspur—and made an attempt to piece everything together. The flowers…could they have some hidden message behind them?

Stargazer lilies: _I'm sorry._

Larkspur: _attachment._

Alstroemeria and lilies: _devotion._

Carnations: _fascination, distinction, affection._

Roses: _passion, respect, love._

She pondered the significance of these meanings, before everything hit her in an instant. It was as if she could hear the very words spoken to her…But it couldn't be. This was _Natsume. _This was unlike anything Natsume would do. No, no, no.

She stepped back, pressing the haphazard flowers tightly against her chest, her head slowly moving left-and-right. Her eyes, wide with realization and astonishment, focused on the ground by his leather-clad feet. A tight, stinging sensation suddenly seized her throat, rendering her unable to speak. She freed her right hand and brought it up to her mouth, covering it to muffle the sobs that were threatening to break free. Under the light drizzle of rain, she felt a heavy droplet of liquid trickle down her face from the corner of her eye. She hastily wiped it away, but more came. Her vision clouded.

Was she crying?

They now stood farther apart, some seven feet in between them.

Natsume eyed her solemnly through long, rain-clumped lashes. His vermillion orbs, glowing with the weight of his feelings, locked on the brunette's now-shaking frame. Seeing the woman he loved crying in front of him was a painful thing; his heart felt like it was being crushed—torn apart, and shredded into minuscule pieces.

He had to act now; this was it.

He stepped one _tiny _step forward, and stood straight with his hands limp by his sides.

"I'm not perfect," he said, his voice lightly pleading, "And I'm probably not what everyone wants me to be—I certainly realized that I'm not everything you want me to be."

Mikan looked at him through blurry eyes, her sniffling ceasing for the moment.

"You told me you're only human, and that you're selfish and greedy. Well…" He paused, contemplating his next words. "I'm only human, too, Mikan. I'm also selfish and greedy, and even if I'm not the perfect man for you, I still want you by my side."

Mikan's breath caught in her throat, and her crying paused altogether. She held the bouquet tighter to her chest.

"I'm only human," he repeated, "I'm a jerk. I'm antisocial, I don't pay enough attention to you, I rarely speak much to anyone besides Ruka, I don't express my feelings clearly. I know I don't express my feelings to you clearly."

She lowered her hands to her sides, still gripping the flowers. Her eyes darted to meet his, and she stifled a gasp at the sight of his crimson orbs. They seemed to glow, and appeared…_lovelorn._

They were the same eyes that stared back at her whenever she looked in the mirror.

"I'm only human," Natsume reiterated once more, "I have all of these imperfections. But I _will _change. I probably won't succeed much, but I will try. I will try to change into a better man, if you'd let me. I want to be a perfect person, by your side."

She choked back a sob.

"For you. Mikan…"

Mikan began to step forward, one small step at a time…

"I love you, and I'm sorry."

…and broke into a run, straight into his chest, where he embraced her tightly with his strong arms. The poor flowers were in between their chests, crushed by the lack of distance.

"I'm sorry," she cried into his shirt, her hands grabbing onto it desperately. "I—I'm sorry for being so selfish and bratty."

"Shh."

"I'm sorry, Natsume—I—I love you too," she sobbed brokenly. He pulled her body, all twenty-two years of her, tighter against him and buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of tangerines and oranges. Oh, how he'd missed this.

He pressed his lips to hers in a brief, chaste kiss, relishing the familiar taste of her strawberry lip gloss and the smooth feeling of her lips. He brushed his lips to her forehead, her nose, her temple, and one by the corner of her mouth. His forehead rested against hers as they continued to share their intimate hug.

"Mikan, I _love _you," he breathed quietly.

And it was like that for hours to come—just the two of them in the rain, embracing, sharing soft kisses, basking in the warmth of each other's _love._

—

—

_fin._

—

—

"_I want to be strong,  
>But I don't want to be alone tonight.<br>I want to believe that I can save the world,  
>And make it right,<br>But I'm only human,  
>And you've got a hero's face.<br>Right here in your arms is the safest place._

_Boy, I'm only human."_

—

—

—

**permanent beta look-out: **i am currently in search of a permanent beta. any one who wishes to be one, please review here or PM me, and i will consider. thanks.

**author's note: **I WANT RED VELVET CAKE. ]: i hope you guys enjoyed this oneshot! and there's a little poll on my profile. if you have time, please go vote on it - it will determine what type of writing i do in the future.

and ohmygosh, have any of you guys read chapter 144 of gakuen alice? (insert hearts here) it was soooo sweet, i'm still smiling thinking about it. :D

pleaseplease_please _review on your way out! a simple _good job! _or _hi! _would be lovely, but constructive criticism is welcomed as well. (if you're going to give constructive criticism, please put it in a polite and as nice as possible way.) thanks for reading!

**edited on june 30, 2011. fixed some spacing and grammar mistakes. **(sorry if you thought there was a followup chapter for this!)


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